Harry Goes To The Office
by Shave the Bumblebee
Summary: After the war, Harry is tired. All he wants is to abandon the wizarding world, and to settle down in the most innocuous place possible. His choice? Scranton, Pennsylvania. Crack!fic Crossover with the Office!
1. A Wizard in Scranton

"My beautiful employees," boomed Michael.

"Today, we will be welcoming a new member into this office who will be replacing Ryan as the most attractive worker here. His name is- drumroll, Dwight - "

Dwight vigorously slapped his knees and then proceed to slap Jim's knees like he was playing a drum set. Jim got up and walked away.

"His name is," Michael continued, "his name is... Harry Kotter."

A half hearted clap resounded through the office. Harry stepped into the spot light. He had a voluptuous nose and a tight fitting white shirt that showed his breast through his shirt. He had always dressed a little too slutty for those Brits, but he fit right in here. Michael pushed Harry out of the way.

"You may have noticed that Kevin is no longer with us. That is because he has died," said Michael.

Hands rose into the air. Michael looked discerningly at his options before reluctantly selecting Phyllis.

"Michael," whined Phyllis in her usual confused sing-songy drawl, "how did Kevin die?"

"Well, Phyllis, details aren't important right now. What's important is that we work together in welcoming our new friend Harry, who is British. God save the Queen!"

Michael motioned for Harry to speak.

"Thank you," said Harry, before freezing. "Oh no," he thought. "Not a speech!" Harry had a tendency to freak out and get paralyzed when speaking in front of large groups. Out of nerves, he automatically reverted to his default speech.

"People of the Scranton branch! Some of you may see me as a hero. You might call me the Great Savior of Britain, the Boy Who Lived, or the Amazing Wizard, but I don't want you to treat me any differently..."

"Blimey!" cried Harry. "I just exposed the wizarding world! Obliviate!" With a wave of his wand, Harry Kotter wiped away their memories and tried again.

"That is to say, hello! I'm Harry, Harry Kotter, Kotter with a K. I come from England, in the United Kingdom, the United Kingdom with a U."

Suddenly, Toby came in from around the corner, rudely interrupting Harry's introductory speech.

Harry's eyes began to leak with tears as he was reminded of his once best friend. "That red hair..." he whispered. "Ron..."

Toby gave him a wary look before taking his seat.

Michael interrupted Toby's interruption. "Toby! You are such a maggot! Just... go buy Harry some fish and chips to make up for this. And maybe some meat pies. Now, take a seat Harry."

Taken aback, Harry seated himself across from Angela in a cleared out area.

"Alright, back to work everyone!" Michael declared with a clap and retreated into his office to play with some Pez.

"Hi," said Harry, holding out his hand for Angela to shake. Angela glared at him leaving his hand limply hanging out in front of her.

"I like your cats," said Harry softly, indicating to a golden framed photo of felines. "My friend turned into one once."

Angela, who for a second seemed to be coming around, gave him a look of grave disapproval and turned away.

"Don't mind her," said the short, curly- haired man next to him with a smile, "She'll come around. I'm Oscar by the way."

Harry blushed, and managed to stutter out: "Oh, good. And, nice to meet you, I'm Harry." He pushed his hair back briskly. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it but he suddenly was reminded his feelings for Dumbledore back in the days.

"I know," said Oscar with a wink.

"Oh, right." Harry laughed awkwardly. "I did just introduce myself, didn't I?"

Oscar gave him a knowing, superior smile before getting back to his work.

Harry sat there for a few moments, playing with a miscellaneous rubber band, before abruptly saying "So I guess I'm an accountant now."

Angela raised her eyebrows. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Oscar cut in reassuringly, "Don't worry, you're just replacing Kevin; he never did any work anyways, all he did was count. And all Angela does is plan parties."

"Oh, that sounds fun," said Harry, "can I join?"

"No!" hissed Angela. Oscar wondered after all these years if Angela really had turned into a cat.

Phyllis cut in- "Angela," she drawled, sing-songing, you can't exclude people from being members if the party planning committee!"

"But he's a man!"

"Or is he," questioned Phyllis, looking at his breast.

This proved to be a sensitive subject for Harry, who, enraged, stood up to his total height of 5'7 and let out a deep roar. "I am man!" he bellowed. "But I also want to plan parties!"

"Ok, fine!" spat out Angela. "But if I see any funny business, I can easily disqualify you!"

Harry glared at her. "Fine. ... so whose party are we planning for next?"

"Dwight," Angela said with an oddly erotic tone.

"I think we should have a piñata," said Harry.

Angela looked taken aback, and her erotic air rapidly faded. "No. I wanted to go with a beet theme, in honor of Dwight's trade. I also wanted to include assorted carols such as "Little Town of Bethlehem," playing from a little jewelry box, also featuring a spinning Ballerina."

Harry leered at her threateningly, alluding to his vast height, before telling her that he needed to get back to work and would she stop bothering him please!

Then, he returned to his computer, where he began to type numbers vigorously.

"72 times 86 divided by 7" he mumbled to himself, "Ahaa, there! Yes! Good Harry!" He nodded so rapidly that the desk shook.

"That's it!" Angela blurted out, slamming her hand down on her desk. She hurried away in a tizzy.

"Wow, they didn't even mention math in Hogwarts. But ahhh, who knew numbers could be so satisfying!" Harry exclaimed. "Count with me, 10, 82, 73!"

Oscar reached out and touched Harry's hand. "Are you okay there?"

But Harry was more than okay. In fact, he hadn't felt this normal in months, years, decades, even!

At Dunder Mifflin Scranton, Harry truly felt like "just Harry."

He knew it could only get better from here.


	2. The Neighbor

Sitting at home, Harry looked at the pile of unopened letters from Britain that Hedwig 2 had just delivered. Dramatically, he pushed them all off of his table before standing up to his hulking height.

"Kreacher!" Harry commanded. "Fetch me some Snapple, mango flavor!"

"Master Harry, what is that?" Asked the perplexed house elf.

"A MUGGLE SNACK," roared Harry angstily.

Kreacher looked cowed, but threw in a parting shot before popping away. "Master Harry, why do you want to be a muggle?"

Harry sank to his knees, putting his hands to his temples despairingly.

"Why _do_ I want to be a muggle?"

Hearing a knock from the door, Harry stood up to his full height of 6'6 inches.

"Who's there?" said Harry.

"It's Bob, from next door."

"Oh no," thought Harry. "Could it be? Bobfrom the ministry of magic? How had they found him?"

Dropping to his knees yet another time, Harry let out a groan of anguish. It was loud in volume, but delicate and consistent in timbre, like air softly being let out of a balloon. Or, like a soft fart.

He knew he had to get the door. But to procrastinate, he went to the wizarding bathroom to get some Neosporin and band-aids for his knees. You see, they had gotten scraped during his bouts of despair in which he fell twice to the ground. However, they were not scraped enough to the extent that a rational person could justify putting Neosporin on them.

The door rattled.

Harry cautiously opened the door, gripping the Neosporin in his hand, and brandishing it at the possible ministry infiltrant.

"Hi, I'm Bob Vance!"

In his shock at not seeing a ministry infiltrant, Harry accidentally squeezed the Neosporin too vigorously, leading to a squeeze of the vaseline-like substance hitting Bob Vance's face!

"Oh, Bob," said Harry, clutching his breast, "I'm so sor-"

"Wow, thank you kind sir! How did you know what I came here for? You see, I needed that Neosporin for my face hole, but I already used up my old Neosporin tube! My wife Phyllis and I used it as lubricant!"

"Wow," said Harry. "That doesn't seem very efficient. It comes in such small, squeezy tubes."

"I know," said Bob, his chins moving like rice pudding. "But the old wife likes it. And you know what they say!"

"Hahhahahahahahahah." Bob and Harry exchanged manly chuckles.

Harry made sure to straighten himself to his full height of 5'11 in order to reveal his testosterone.

"Wait a second!" said Harry. "Your wife, Phyllis. Does she talk in a confused, sing-songy drawl sort of manner? And does she sometimes nibble, even when she's not eating?"

"Why, yes!"

"Wow, we know the same one!" exclaimed Harry. "Hey, if that's the case, do you think you could set me up with Oscar? He works with Phyllis."

"Ok," said Bob, "but only if you replace your refrigerators with ones from Vance Refrigeration."

"I don't have refrigerators... I don't really worry about food preservation, usually my elf- uhh, I mean, my SHELF takes care of that. I just put things on the shelf!"

"Perfect! You will receive the fridges at the crack of dawn. Just wait for the rooster's crow." Bob glanced at his 2008 Motorola flip phone. "Oscar says to meet him tonight at the Scranton Olive Garden. Wear black, and bring a French wine."

Harry's testosterone quivered as he thought of the romantic conquest the future held for him.

He drew to his full height, 290cm.

"It's a date," said Harry with a manic gleam in his eye. "It's a date."


	3. Leather Pant Luck

Harry wore his leather pants to work the next day. He stomped in, marching like a soldier.

"I hope I look like I am walking normally," Harry thought, trying to hide any sense of what had happened last night.

"These are my favorite pants!" Harry declared, trying to draw attention away from any possible question of his whereabouts the other night.

Pam looked up, confused. But, feeling like she should acknowledge him, she said, "Yes, they are nice indeed."

Harry, not expecting a response, grimaced. "She knows," Harry muttered.

Suddenly, Oscar appeared from the break room. Harry clutched his breast and shrunk down from his usual height of 100cm, to 35cm tall. But before Harry could acknowledge him, Michael threw open his office door and stepped out, clapping his hands in the air.

"Listen up people! Today we are going to have a meeting about British issues. I have been recently informed that some people have been committing racism at Harry, our lovely new British worker who is from Britain, which is a part of England. I have heard that some of you have offered him fish and chips and even meat pies on occasion. This is racism against the British, which is very bad ever since the Irish did it and drove them out of their own country. Racism is real, folks! It could happen to you or me! Anyone of us at any moment could suffer from racism just because we're all a little bit British. How does that make you feel? Meeting adjourned!"

Oscar slid behind Harry subtly.

"Nice pants." He whispered and shuffled off.

"Hi Harry, I am really sorry about the racism," said Kelly. "It must be really tough to deal with- I can't imagine. By the way, I'm Kelly- do you like my new blouse? I heard you were gay, that means you should like it."

"It has good ruffles," responded Harry.

"You have good ruffles" Oscar whispered from behind.

"Oscar, that is like so creepy! What is with you today?" Kelly blurted out.

"Oh no!" Harry thought. "She's catching on!"

"Fine weather it is today. I especially like when the sky is blue and it is 73 degrees fahrenheit." Harry said, changing the topic.

Toby walked in and sat down, "Ahh I prefer a brisk 69."

"Eww toby, you're so gross!" Kelly exclaimed.

Heartened by the distraction, Harry took the opportunity to leave the room. Unfortunately, he ended up in Michael's office as that was where the door that he had chosen led to.

"Ah Harry, don't let the racism get you down, what can I do you for?" Michael said as he fiddled with two action figures from Spongebob.

"What are those strange creations?" said Harry ponderously.

"It's Patrick and Spongebob!"

"Ahhh, perhaps they are from TV. I never had any TV in my cupboard where my relatives kept me under the stairs in a small space, cramped, a place fit for only small animals and filth. I never had any TV in my wizarding high school either- Oh no! Obliviate!"

Harry briskly exited Michaels office.

"Harry why do you have a nervous sweat?" asked Pam very boringly.

"Pam, why aren't you more interesting?" gruntled Harry.

Pam started to cry.

Jim growled and stood up revealing his vast height of 6 foot 2. However Harry's height of 6 foot 1 was elevated by his platform shoes making him tower over Jim.

"Jim!" Harry boomed. "I have surely won this testosterone battle, due to my hulking height. Give in to me. Pam, continue to cry!"

Harry's booming voice was undercut by a far larger boom!

A wizard had apparated into the room!


	4. Dumbledore's Visit

Through the mist, the visage of Albus Dumbledore was visible.

Everyone was shocked that a man had appeared wearing a purple bathrobe. So Harry obliviated them.

While the office was caught in the haze of obliviation, Harry took the moment to talk with his former headmaster, lover, and gardener.

"Dumbly-dore, what... why have you come?" Harry glanced slyly at the stunning grey haired bombshell, biting his fat lip with a coy grin.

"You know I couldn't pass over a good muffin," Dumbledore exclaimed mysteriously.

"What?" said Harry.

Dumbledore reached over to the receptionist's desk, where a plate of muffins had been set out, neatly arranged by Pam. He took the juiciest one and bit into it.

Pam snarled, and rearranged them so they were symmetrical again, still in her obliviated haze.

"Blueberry, my favorite!" complimented Dumbledore, nodding approvingly at Pam.

Pam snarled again.

Harry couldn't help but stare at the way Dumbledore's silver and gold star patterned robes clung to his contour. When Dumbledore began to meet his steamy eye contact, Harry blurted out:

"I have a new lover now!"

Dumbledore chuckled voluptuously. "Ahhh, young tyke. Alas, I have not come for you. I am here to submit my application for Head Treasurer. I hear the retirement packages are good here. I want a nice plot in Greenland."

"Copycat!" accused Harry, "Pennsylvania was my thing."

"Who are you?" Jim asked, the first to awake from the haze, due to a combination of natural smarts and arrogance.

"Who are you?" echoed Dumbledore.

"Jim Halpert," said Jim, "And you?"

"Gym Halpert. And You?" said Dumbledore.

Angrily, Jim grabbed Dumbledore and with a wave of a concealed wand, enclosed him in a sac of Jello.

"Yum, Jello. Silly fellow, why would his parents name him after a Gymnasium," chortled Dumbledore. However, no one could hear him, as he was inside Jello.

Harry gasped "Gym, you're a wizard!"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Duh, Harry. I just used a jelly-body curse so duh. Plus my name is J I M, Jim."

"What? How did you know I was imagining your name spelled G Y M?" asked Harry.

"Because you were pronouncing it with the G sound. It's not Gim, it's Jim!" Gym said. "I am tired of everyone getting my name wrong!"

"Gy-Jim I never knew!" sighed Pam, "How can I ever earn your forgiveness?"

"Marry me!"

"What about Roy?"

"Im pregnant with your baby, Pamela," Jim said vulnerably.

"Oh no," said Pam. "I forgot that male wizards could give birth!"

"Wait! You know about wizards, too?" Screeched Dumbledore.

Yet again, no one heard him from inside the jello.

Therefore, Harry easily plagiarized his sentence, asking the exact same thing seconds later!

"Pam, you know about wizards too?" Harry gasped.

"Yes, Gym- Jim, sorry- told me last Hanukkah during our annual latke making festival. The rules of secrecy are much laxer here in Scranton, Pennsylvania, America."

"Oh, yes... yes I heard that before from my contacts..." Harry considered.

Dumbledore sprang out of the jello using his powerful thighs to kick.

"I am rescinding my application! Too many wizards for me, and the muffin girl was a real bitch. Despite her lover's jello, which was tasty and I thank him for, I will have to leave."

With that, Dumbledore disappeared, leaving chaos in his midst.


End file.
